


Flowers in Your Hair

by KayLingLing7



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: (no blood or anything I promise), Art, Centaurs, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Minor Injuries, Mythical Beings & Creatures, fic with art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 12:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13077297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayLingLing7/pseuds/KayLingLing7
Summary: Centaurs are known to be territorial creatures, but when push comes to shove they make do with what they have.---Jean is a centaur who's herd has had to move to new land, which just so happens to already home Marco's herd.





	Flowers in Your Hair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [charperche (mrbobbobbert)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrbobbobbert/gifts).



> Hello Charperche! In your monster AU prompt you offered centaurs as an option, and since I've been wanting to draw the boys as centaurs for a while I went with that one!  
> So there's a short 2k fic, and an art piece to accompany it! Enjoy!

Jean is weary.

The early spring foliage is lush and striving, the birds in the trees loud and unafraid as he passes by beneath them. It’s a good place to make a home. Still, though, for all its peaceful beauty there is an underlying _feeling_ in the pit of Jean’s stomach – an alertness at every snap of a twig, a shiver down his spine at every drawn-out silence. He does not know what beast or beings might have claimed this land as their own before he and his herd had arrived here, and so he walks through the unfamiliar forest, heart in his throat, spear at the ready. He’s marking their territory, creating a home for himself and his herd in this unfamiliar space they have moved to, and the sounds and smells around him are foreign, confusing in their strangeness.

He stumbles, then, into a small clearing, and comes face-to-face with a warrior.

The centaur before him is similar to himself, though of a larger breed. He is half-man, half-horse, a large strong stallion with a sleek brown hide and tanned, freckled skin. His hair is up in an intricate braid, a large and imposing bow before him, the arrow notched and pointed directly at Jean’s heart.

Jean raises the spear at his side, his other hand ready to grab the dagger at his waist to throw if need be. His heart is pounding in his chest, but he is a grown man, a protector to his herd, and he will stand his ground here.

They both stand motionless for what feels like an eternity, muscles tense, eyes locked and unblinking. Finally the unknown warrior drops his bow. He stares at Jean for a good long moment before he turns and gallops away.

Jean watches him go with relief, before he too turns to head home.

* * *

Weeks have passed, and Jean is out on patrol once again. Their small heard has made themselves comfortable here, and so far they have not had any problems – he had not told anyone else about the warrior, and no one else had reported seeing one themselves, but Jean cannot stop thinking about the encounter.

His patrol takes him near the clearing he had first seen the warrior, and he is on high alert, his eyes skimming the area in front and around him, constantly keeping vigil of the near distance. He is so focused on his task that he does not keep an eye on his footing, and with a loud gasp of pain he finds himself with his right forefoot trapped between fallen branches on the forest floor.

Jean curses, and attempts to pull his hoof free before the pain makes him stop – some small sharp twig or stone is pressing at just the right angle that if he tries to move it will leave a nasty wound. He’s not going to be able to get out of this quickly.

He’s about to try and get down on his haunches (which is not an easy thing to do at the best of times) when he sees a movement in front of him, causing his head to snap up.

The same warrior as before has emerged from the trees before him, and for a long moment they keep eye contact, both unmoving. Jean panics, realising he’s dropped his spear when he’d gotten stuck, and the small dagger on his hip is nothing against the powerful bow the stranger is carrying.

He’s trapped, without a proper weapon, and completely and utterly vulnerable.

It’s a huge surprise, then, when the warrior, still making eye contact with him, drops his bow to the ground.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” The stranger calls out, raising his empty hands above his head. “I can help you. Can I approach?”

Jean stares for a long moment, dumbstruck, before he nods.

The stranger makes his way over to Jean slowly, cautiously, picking his way over the uneven forest ground, his hands still raised.

When the stranger is in touching distance he gives Jean a tentative smile, and from the close proximity Jean realises that he has kind, warm eyes. This, more than anything, puts Jean at ease in the stranger’s presence.

“I’m Marco,” the stranger introduces himself, finally dropping his hands from above his head.

“I’m Jean,” Jean replies in return, not really sure what else to say.

“Okay, Jean, I’m going to try and get you out of this, okay?” Marco said calmly, and Jean can only nod back as he slowly lays down to inspect Jean’s forefoot.

“I can’t see any blood, so that’s good. I’m going to try and pull the branches apart so you can slip your leg out, alright?”

Jean nods. “Okay,” he says, embarrassed at how hoarse his voice comes out.

Marco grabs hold of the branches on either side of Jean’s leg and carefully moves them apart. Jean quickly takes that as his cue to try and lift his leg, and is happy to find that he can do so without much difficulty.

“Let me check that out,” Marco says, dropping the branches and holding out his hands expectantly. Jean hesitates for a moment before slowly resting his leg in Marco’s hands.

Marco looks over it carefully, prodding gently at the fetlock join. Jean tries not to wince. “It looks good, no bleeding or sprains. You might just have a pretty nasty bruise. You want to try walking on it?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” Jean stammers, pulling his leg out of Marco’s hands to carefully place it on the floor. He tries putting some weight on it, and finds that it’s not _too_ painful.

“Good?” Marco asks, slowly getting back to his feet.

“Good.” Jean agrees, before looking up and taking Marco’s full height and girth.

Jean’s herd are a breed of centaurs that have a small, sleek body type that’s good for speed, and standing next to Marco, who has a very large body with muscular legs and arms, is very intimidating, even with his weapon on the floor two meters away from them.

Marco seems to notice Jean’s unease, as he smiles tentatively, lifting his hands in a placating manner. “Sorry. I really don’t want to hurt you though.”

Jean hums in agreement, glancing at his spear on the ground.

Marco seems to notice. “No, really. Our herd noticed yours moving here, and we decided we wouldn’t bother you. But you caught me by surprise in the clearing, that one time. I’m sorry about that.”

Jean cocks an eyebrow. “If you had the forest before us, why would you let us take your land?”

This time when Marco smiles it’s bitter. “We, uh, haven’t actually been in this forest for very long ourselves.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah,” Marco sighs, “our old forest was taken over by a dragon. It’s very hard to fight a dragon.” When Marco laughs it’s hollow and self-depreciating.

Jean feels like he can understand this stranger now, and his heart swells in sympathy and understanding. “Humans took over our forest. There were too many of them to be able to fight.”

“Ah.” Marco nods, a small smile on his face. “We’re birds of a feather, here. I think this forest is big enough for the both of us.”

Jean can’t help but smile, and shakes his head. “I guess so. Thank you for your help.”

Marco smiles broadly. “I hope we can be friends.”

Jean blinks. “I... Yeah. That’d be nice.”

* * *

Weeks turn to months, and spring turns to summer. The leaders of both herds meet up with one another, and together they come to terms with living in such close proximity. Jean and Marco, as the two herd members to meet for the first time, are chosen as ambassadors between the two groups, and as such spend a lot of time together.

Jean can admit to the fact that Marco has slowly become his best friend, as he had never really gotten along with any of the other centaurs in his heard. Jean has always been hot-headed, competitive and bad-tempered, and somehow Marco’s easy-going personality and quick smile seem to soften his hard edges. When he’s around Marco he just wants to be his best self – not to try and impress him, or to set a good example for his herd, but just because Marco _inspires_ him to be better.

All the comings and goings between the two groups inevitably leads to Jean noticing differences between the two. Their weapons, for example, are very different – while most in Marco’s herd use long-distance weaponry like bows and arrows, Jean’s herd use long spears and throwing daggers, for short-distance fighting. And while both herds keep to the practice of leaving their hair long and uncut, everyone in Jean’s herd either leave it loose or in messy buns atop their head, often wearing adornments like flower crowns or feathers. Marco’s herd, on the other hand, all keep their hair in very intricate braids, sometimes just one long rope down their backs, or many small braids in various thicknesses and styles. Jean is fascinated by this, and can’t imagine how the braids are done so neatly.

They’re walking together one day, after having just facilitated a trade of goods between their herds, and Jean can’t help but get captivated by the way the sun shines on Marco’s dark hair. He reaches out to trail a finger over one of the intricate braids. “Does it not take forever to do this to your hair? How do you manage it?”

Marco laughs, “I was wondering the same thing about the flowers you wear! They always look so lovely.”

Jean touches the flowers in his hair – he’d made a simple crown out of wild daisies this morning, and had hoped the pale yellow of the petals would look good against the pale yellow of his hair. Apparently Marco thought so.

“I could make you a crown of flowers, if you want.” Jean asks, glancing up at Marco. Marco’s whole face lights up.

“If you do, I’ll braid your hair for you!” He exclaims before grabbing Jean’s hand and tugging him in the opposite direction from where they were heading. “We can do it in the clearing, there’s flowers all over the grass there!”

Jean can only laugh at his eagerness, happy to let himself be lead along.

They come to the clearing they had first met, and Marco is quick to help Jean collect as many flowers as they can before leading them to a flat area of grass in the shade, herding Jean into sitting down before Marco sits beside them. They sit close together, so much so that Jean’s side is fully pressed to Marco’s, and he can feel the other centaur’s body rise and fall with every breath he takes. It’s weird, how being so close to him can be both calming and exhilarating at the same time.

With gentle hands Marco extracts the flower crown from Jean’s hair and undoes his bun.

“Your hair is so soft.” Marco says in a low voice. Jean hums with pleasure when Marco pulls his fingers through his hair, getting rid of any small snags and knots. He could get used to this feeling.

They sit in silence for a long while, as Marco’s hands work through Jean’s hair,  Jean’s own hands working on the flowers.

“There, it’s done.” Marco says finally, his hands stilling and moving down to Jean’s shoulders.

Jean reaches up and gingerly feels his hair. His eyes widen. “Wooow. This feels so good, does it look good?”

He turns slightly to see Marco smiling warmly at him. “It looks really good.” He agrees.

Jean blushes, and distracts himself by holding up the flower crown. “Here, this is done.”

Marco leans forward to let Jean gently place the crown atop his head. When he leans back up again he smiles, touching it gently. He has a small blush across his cheeks. “How does it look?”

“It looks good.” Jean manages to say.

“Yeah?” Marco laughs, glancing away. “I should probably be honest with you. Playing with hair is actually a form of courtship in our herd...”

Jean’s eyes widen, his heart picking up in his chest. Then he smiles, reaching up to trail a hand over the flowers in Marco’s hair. “Giving flower chains is a form of courtship in our herd, too.”

“Really?” Marco asks, perking up.

Jean has to laugh at his eager expression, leaning in close. “Really.”

Neither of them can fight the grins on their faces when they lean forward, Jean’s hands slipping down to caress Marco’s cheeks.

Their kiss is warm, and soft, and perfect – even if neither of them can really stop smiling the whole way through it. When they break apart they both laugh, before leaning in again, and again, and again.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy holidays! I hope you enjoyed this!
> 
>  
> 
> If you liked the drawing, please check out my Tumblr and Twitter, I'll be posting the art there too.  
> https://plotindevelopment.tumblr.com/  
> https://twitter.com/KayworxX


End file.
